Starry Night
by ephemereal
Summary: Michael's been expecting something like this, really, and is a little surprised it hasn't happened sooner. PostEvolution oneshot.


**_Author's Note: _**I swear I'm capable of writing fic other than smut. I just…wanted to play with the aftermath for a few minutes here. Because I'm cruel like that. I realize that there are fics with similar premises—I don't intend any infringement, it's just something that we all like to explore. Oh, and I promise fic with plot is coming soon. Much thanks for beta and encouragement. You know who you are.

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_**Starry Night**_

He finds her sitting in the cheap hotel bathtub, completely naked, chin on her knees and staring blankly at the wall. The shower is on, beating uselessly against the scratched porcelain bottom, stray droplets ricocheting off her bare toes.

"Selene?" He has come looking for her because he's been awake a full hour with no sign of her. He's grown used to her strong gaze, quietly standing by and always ready to spring into action. He's been expecting something like this, really, and is a little surprised it hasn't happened sooner.

Her eyes flick up, and for a moment Michael thinks he can see a flash of blue. But it's gone before he can be sure, and the eyes that meet his are more green-gold than brown. He can see the tears on her cheeks now, but chooses not to notice them, knowing it will do neither of them any good at the moment.

"What can I do?" He expects the answer to be something along the lines of _'get the hell out of my sight,'_ but she simply runs her eyes up and down the length of him. Michael realizes for the umpteenth time that he barely knows this woman he's likely to spend the rest of his life with.

Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he steps in under the shower, shivering a little when he realizes the water's gone cold. The sweatpants and t-shirt he's been wearing stick to his skin, but he pays it no mind. Bending a little, he takes Selene's hands and pulls her to her feet. She complies, a bit shakily. After a moments, Michael lets go of her fingers and pulls her into their first real embrace. Somehow, impossibly, this moment seems more intimate than anything he's shared with her yet.

Her hands come up to grip his arms almost painfully, and she rests her chin proudly on his shoulder, refusing to let him see her pain. For a while she stands there, taking long, shuddering breaths, and he cannot tell whether there are tears. When she pulls away again, her face is arranged in the familiar mask of cool confidence.

"Michael," she says disapprovingly, "you're drenched."

The senselessness of her words is a testament to the depth of emotion she's just experienced. He looks down at his soaked pants, at the t-shirt that now clings to his torso like a second skin. A laugh bubbles up from deep in his stomach, the same place that has so recently been clenched with barely suppressed rage. The tears that accompany his laughter are more of relief than anything else, because he knows she would not be so brusque unless her grief has abated some. When he looks at her again, the quirk of one perfectly arched brow seems to suggest that she is laughing silently as well.

"Awkward, isn't it?" he says, giving Selene a grin he knows will never be returned. Michael reaches behind him and turns off the tap, and steps out onto the threadbare rug beside the tub, knowing better than to try and help Selene as she follows him. Her hands find their way under the hem of his dripping shirt, and he lifts his arms to assist her. She lets the bundle of wet fabric falls to the floor with a feeble splash, and gives him a look that says she is waiting for him to kiss her. He obliges willingly, gooseflesh rising on his arms as her cold fingers come up to brush against his neck. A few droplets of water come off his hair and land on her nose, and Michael breaks away laughing.

"Awkward doesn't begin to cover it," says Selene, pulling a towel from the rack and tossing it at his head. He takes it and rubs it roughly over his hair, knowing it will stand on end and hoping to elicit some form of amusement in her.

"Help me, Selene," he says after a moment. The words are intended as a joke, but she turns serious immediately, and he realizes he has struck a chord. "I'm lost without you."

She stares at him for a long moment, then rips the towel savagely from his hands and throws it the way of his shirt. Her lips ravage his with an almost painful intensity, and he nearly cries out as his tongue brushes past the fangs he still does not expect to find in her mouth. His shoulder-blades bump the wall, and he hasn't even realized he's been moving backwards.

Selene struggles with the drawstring on his pants, kneeling and clipping it with her teeth when the wet fabric fails to oblige. The look in her eyes when she gets back to her feet is so triumphant that for a moment Michael feels as though he can empathize with her prey. He takes her by the elbows, coaxing her back in, nearly overwhelmed by the expanse of her cold skin over his.

Feeling bold, he slips one arm beneath her legs and lifts her, surprised as always by his own strength. To his surprise, she does not struggle as he makes his way into the other room and gently lays her out on the bed. On his knees, he wastes no time in returning his lips to her skin, though he stays tantalizingly out of reach of her mouth. He trails kisses down her neck, knowing that it is her most vulnerable feature she is allowing him access to. After a moment, her fingers in his hair coax him back, and she leans up to capture his lips once more. Her hands push against his shoulders, and Michael rolls onto his back, realizing just how strong she's become.

"Jesus Christ," he gasps, grabbing her hips and guiding her down as she straddles him. Her eyes flash instant silver-blue, betraying her otherwise calm façade.

"You asked for it," says Selene, in a way he is not quite sure is teasing. Her lips are on his again before he can speak, and he finds he cannot close his eyes and break her gaze. He loses all sense of time as they find a rhythm; blue eyes and shallow breaths and cold droplets of water off her hair this time are all that he's aware of. Her teeth graze her own lip somehow, and the coppery tang of the few drops of blood is enough to send them both over the edge. After what seems an impossibly long time, he finds himself cradling her to his chest, feeling as though he could float away, all the fears that have been weighing heavy on his shoulders shucked away for the moment.

"Selene," he says softly, not entirely sure she's still awake.

"What?"

"We're going to be all right."

"Michael…" _'I wish I could believe you,'_ says her uncharacteristically long sigh. But she rolls onto her side, pulling him with her, and wraps her arms firmly around his neck.


End file.
